Sweet as Vinegar
by Madame Nyx
Summary: So, here is the story of my life... I was born, I grew up, I worked for Spain and then I got independent and then... what do you mean more descriptive?" Basically Romano telling his story in his own way. Spain x Romano. Romance. Fluff. Humor.


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_**Sweet as Vinegar**_

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_So you want to hear my story? Well, fuck you! I am not – what? You are..? … You fucking bitch! I am going to – shit! Ow ow ow! Fine! I'm telling you the freaking story of my life! Sheesh, just quit hitting me on the head... is the recorder on already? What the fuck! Why didn't you tell me!? … So? I don't care if you and those weird people want to know more about me! OW! I'm starting now, okay! Stop hitting me with... wait... is that Hungary's frying pan? ... She let you borrow it in exchange for BL pictures? What the fuck is BL? No wait, don't tell me, I really don't want to know..._

_So, here is the story of my life... I was born, I grew up, I worked for Spain and then I got independent and then... what do you mean more descriptive!? You want me to take this seriously? Fuck n- OW! Aaah! Don't hurt me! Stop! Aaah! Spain, you bastard, save me from this crazy bitch uwaaah!_

Sometimes it feels like he's always been there. Always being that smiling, laughing, and most of all _annoying_ presence that came to be before I was born into this world. I've known him for as long as I can remember but we haven't always been close... though I am not so sure we're close now either... are we? I don't know. It's not like we have these deep, long, heartfelt conversations with each other... not that I want any of those! I mean, why would I want to tell that stupid bastard about my thoughts and feelings and shit like that?! And why the hell would I want to hear about him!? Fucking shit... damn it...

In any case, when we were kids we didn't have all that much contact with each other (even though we lived in the same house... not that I wanted to!), maybe a greeting or a look every few days. He was more interested in my brother even then, but who wasn't and still isn't? Stupid bastards.

When we grew a bit older, not by much though, my grandfather went away and took Veneziano with him, and only my little brother returned. At first I couldn't believe that my old man had really died, but the stupid brat told me so and he was bawling his eyes out as he did. It took a few days for it to really sink in, and once it did I realized that we were alone. Rome had left us weak and almost defenseless to face the harsh reality and the cruelty of the world on our own. Thank you so much, grandpa, I am so grateful...

I sincerely hope you picked up on the sarcasm there. I fucking hate that old fart!

No, really, I do! What reason do I have to love that old timer, huh? He... he didn't even love me! His own grandson! Not once did he hug me, or kiss me or pat the head like he did my stupid brother. _Not even once__._ He barely even talked or even looked at me... and you know why? Because he had Veneziano, his cute and precious little jewel... and I? What am I but a gray rock in comparison..?

I admit that Feliciano (for I refuse to call him Feli) is a bit better than me, I do. I will not deny that he is better at painting and trade... and he is cuter, and nicer and… but ... but I got a lot of good points too, damn it! People just don't take the time to get to know me well enough to see them!

Not long after that our fellow Nations became aware of that we were easy prey; and just like vultures they began to circle us. Like a pack of wolves stalking deer, and we were powerless to stop them. They bullied us around constantly, fighting each other over our lands among other things (vital regions have always been a favorite of the pervert and the second potato bastard). Though after a long battle Austria went out as the victor... making sure to step on my head in the process (that asshole!), and so Feliciano and I were taken under his wing.

We were taken to his house to live there, and to serve him and pay him taxes and all those "fun" things that I would normally avoid. Like cleaning. If there is something I hate more than that stupid Spaniard it is cleaning... oh, I kinda hate that potato bastard even more... but the kraut and cleaning are about the same level... yeah.

Naturally I did everything to annoy my "boss", be it by being myself and by that a little lazy and breaking things... both deliberately and by mistake, it could be either... oh, and let's forget my _att__itude_ as they like to call it. Now, I know I'm not the most pleasant guy to be around a lot of the time, but when I want to make someone truly miserable? Heh heh, let's just say I have my ways... what? The mustache plan was excellent!

So, unsurprisingly, my "boss" finally decided to "leave me in more capable hands" (more like: had enough of me and wanted to get rid of me as fast as possible), or as he said (and I quote): "Seeing as I cannot properly take care of you I shall leave you with someone who can, he might even gain your respect.". Hah! Yeah, right... Spain definitely had this aura that makes you respect him... _pfft! _

… Well, maybe his conquistador self, the conqueror, the adventurer and the soldier side of him... maybe, yes maybe just a little... but not much! Not that the stupid guy normally let that side show, and the few times it does surface it's, well... with a very good reason. Like that time when I _in any case!_ Spain was and still is not the kinda guy that you will respect... or something, well... ah whatever.

So I move in with the guy and the first thing he did was to put me in this silly maid outfit (it was that bitch Hungary's idea to begin with, and he thought it would be "adorable" if I wore one too.) Yeah, great first impression of my new boss! Not. I found immediately that I loathed him and wanted nothing more than to make him even more miserable than Austria, and so I decided to make his life horrible as well.

I acted twice as rude to him as I was to Austria, I was twice as lazy and I broke twice as many things... all in the beautiful goal of making him miserable, maybe miserable enough to let me free! … But as we all know, that didn't happen. Sure, he wanted to trade me with my stupid brother and that was it. Not really what I had been aiming for, so I was rather annoyed to be honest.

I kept trying and trying... and then trying a little less, and a little less until I didn't even try to make him miserable at all. Because... I kind of... started to like the guy. Not in _that_way, you pervert! I started to like him as my boss, as a person and as... as a friend. Or maybe even an older brother if I am to be sentimental. I still made him pull his hair in frustration, mind you, but I certainly wasn't as horrible as I had been earlier.

I wonder what it was that started my little transformation from the little beast to the bearable brat... could it have been when he cured my chorea by making me dance the Tarantella? (I made sure to hurt him a bit for the stupid song he sang while playing that stupid guitar) Was it when he started to teach me how to grow tomatoes? Or when we celebrated that I finally stopped wetting my bed? (it wasn't _my_ idea! … Besides... I wet my bed again a few months after that... not that he ever found out about that, I managed to keep it a secret.) Oh, by the way, I am denying everything I just said... the bed wetting never happened, got it!

As I grew up under his watchful eye and gentle care, for I have to admit that he was quite... loving. He treated me more like I was his little brother or dare I say it? … son. He even told me once that I was very precious to him, that he saw me as... and that was about the time I knocked him in the head with a chair... he was being embarrassing, okay!? He kept looking at me with those big... shiny... green eyes... I am _not_ blushing, damn it! Stop laughing at me!

Fuck, _fuck_! Fuck you all! Damn it...

Well anyway, time went by and I grew a bit bigger... I finally got to wear something else then that stupid maid outfit. Pants and a simple shirt, usually ragged since Spain didn't have the money to buy me new clothes because of Turkey... do I really have to tell about Turkey?... Oh, fine! He kidnapped me when I was going back home to Italy for a while, satisfied?

More descriptive? … _Fine_, you win! Just... put away the frying pan.

As I said, I was on my way home to Italy and was going to stay there for a while... you know, I am the Nation, so I have to be with my people at least a week or two every year. Anyway, I was sitting by a pond when this creepy guy in a mask kidnaps me and drags me off... okay, more liked grabbed the back of my shirt and carried me off like a puppy... you get the point!

So there I was, bound like a dog and lying in a covered wagon when this bull suddenly race into it and before I knew it I was lying on its back, too disoriented to understand what was going on. I heard shouting but couldn't make out the words, and by the time they were done with their arguing I was barely conscious enough to raise my head and take a look at my rescuer. (I was frightened that it was France for a moment) I remember wondering if I was heaven...

I have to admit I was pretty relieved when I saw it was Spain, but I said that it had to be hell because he was there... I don't know why I said it, okay!? I was... a little embarrassed, I guess... Hey, stop fishing for more about this, because I ain't going to tell you more about that particular moment!

No matter, after that our life continued as normal... I lay around the house chilling, eating and breaking things when I cleaned. Yes, I hated cleaning then too! Why I did it then? Because it was my job, obviously! … Though I avoided doing it, both because it was boring and because things always broke when I did... yes, things still tip over every time I even think about cleaning... will you stop laughing at me, woman! ...

We were rather poor and so we mostly ate tomatoes that we grew, _yes we._ I helped planting and taking care of them, so they were mine too! They're still mine, I always help that stupid bastard out... why are you giggling? … And how is tending to tomatoes with a dumb Spaniard cute? …

When I got a little older he began to treat me more like a friend and equal and less like his underling; he didn't order me around as much, and we often just... hung out. He introduced me to wine and a lot of other drinks, and we would get drunk every once in a while. He tried to get me to tag along when he was going out with his two dumb buddies. Guess which ones. I never went though, my idea of fun has never been to be molested and mocked, but that idiot has always been too clueless to even noticed when someone is making fun of him... he doesn't even notice when the cheese bastard stick a hand down his pants!

… But I'll have you know that Spain is _not_ oblivious to when _**I**_stick my hand down his pants, hah! ... Eh, I meant! No! I didn't... I, ARGH! Fuck it, forget what I just said! I am not going to talk about my sex life!

… I will continue when you stop giggling... and giving me those looks... are you taking notes? Why? You have a reco-... SpaRom... fanfic... lemon? … What the hell does that mean? Is it some kind of code? … It's a fangirl thing? Okay, I get it, I don't want to know then... fucking fangirls...

Then I gained my independence... I pretty much said good bye and walked out of the house, but he kept clinging onto me and crying... I felt a little bad for leaving him like that, he was seriously well... sad. He didn't want me to leave, and he looked so... so lonely that I... But Feliciano wanted us to unite and be independent, for the sake of the old man. I don't care about Rome, but I did and still do care about that stupid _fratello_ of mine... no matter how annoying he is, he is still my little brother. He wanted us to be together, to be a family, and so I went along with it.

I gotta admit I kinda missed Spain... not much though! It's not like I care about him or anything... not how he always cheers me up... and he's the only that can make me smile... and... … … I won't say it. I refuse to say it, so stop giving me that look. I do not love that bastard, got it! He's just annoying and in the way and always smiling stupidly and he is so oblivious and, and... and... GAH!

Once we were united as a family again, Veneziano and I moved to a little house in the heart of Rome, it wasn't much... but it suited us fine. Just a couple of bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen... it was a pain to share bathroom with him though, he's worse than a girl! He stays in there for at least two hours every morning... thank god we got a bigger house now!

With _two_ bathrooms!

Where was I? ... Oh yeah, I lived together with my brother and I didn't see Spain for a few years... thirty four years, eight months, one week and two days to be exact... not that I was keeping track of the time or anything! I just... whatever! I didn't see him for a long time. I was pretty happy during that time though, I had a lot to do so both my brother and I were really busy, and most days we would just fall into bed right after dinner and leave for work at sunrise.

I met Spain again at the first organized European meeting, hosted at Austria's house, and turned out to be a chaotic mess... I am not kidding you, if you think the world meetings are bad... that is nothing compared to what happened then.

Everyone was yelling and within ten minutes it was a full out war in the meeting room, no one was safe and everyone but myself and Feliciano were running around and hitting whatever was moving with their weapon of choice. From guns to swords, to frying pans and fish, to chairs and table legs, and of course the good old fashioned fist in the face. I have to admit that I delivered a quite deliberate kick beneath the belt. France never expected it and he kept glaring at me afterward... but it was _so_ worth it!

(Besides, he was running around naked for no apparent reason... I was hoping a little pain in his vital regions would make him realize that he should put some clothes on... really!)

During that chaos I just happened to stumble into Spain as I was looking for a place to hide (the table had been destroyed, so I couldn't hide underneath it). At first he didn't really recognize me (I had grown at least a head taller and lost all the baby fat by then) but when he did he just dropped that giant axe he likes to swing around and hugged me like a freaking teddy bear.

And being as manly as I am I protested violently and did _not_ hug him back! … Well, maybe just a little. Then he started wiping my cheeks with his thumbs and told me not to cry, but I wasn't crying damn it! I... I just got something in my eye! He kept kissing me all over my face and cooing things like "little Lovi, my sweet little tomato!" and all that other shit he likes to call me.

However, we were interrupted in our reunion when Prussia was thrown into us and we toppled over, just like that, and _smack_! I had my first kiss stol- I meant, it wasn't my first kiss! I've kissed plenty of girls before that! I-I-eh... anyway, he fell on top of me and just like in those cliché books he kissed me by mistake!

It wasn't even a real kiss... more like a lip breaking head bump.

From there things went even more downhill (yes, unbelievable... but it did happen). Naturally I was humiliated by this and I... kind of... started shouting at him (Spain that is) and then I slapped him before running out of the room... Feliciano had seen the whole thing and ran after me. I tried to lose him, but he was really stubborn about it and I ended up sitting on a bench while he had an arm around my shoulders, trying to console me or something.

We left a little while afterward, both of us were quite tired and I have to admit... I was emotionally drained after all that as well, so we went home, made dinner and then spent the rest of the night in silence. The next day there was a basket with tomatoes on the front porch with a note that was addressed to me...

No, that note is far too private. I am not going to tell you what he had written to me. I refuse... I have told you too much already, damn it!

After that Spain and I started meeting at least once a week, and the days that moron didn't go over to my house he called at least twice a' day just to see how I was doing... those calls really annoyed me too! Really, really annoyed me! I was so fucking annoyed at them that I eh... that I... oh, fuck it. He still calls me twice every day, you know? Once in the morning, and then at night before he goes to bed... not that I keep the telephone by the bed so that we can talk ourselves to sleep, I just have it there... in case I get an important call so can answer it right away! STOP GIGGLING!

Stupid girl... anyway, we kinda just hung out just like we had before I moved out of his house. Just... well... doing nothing in particular. Though sometimes he'd drag me off to the beach, or to a restaurant and once he even brought me flower... I don't know why he did that though! He just gave them to me before he took me to this place where they had decent pasta and... held my hand every chance he got...

NO, that does _not_ sound like a date! If it had been one he would've... oh wait... he did kiss me outside my house... eh... … … It still wasn't a date! Fuck off, you bitch! I am telling you that it wasn't a date and I did not enjoy that kiss one bit! Fuck you!

We kept doing these kinda things until the First World War came along and we didn't have time for things like that... but once it was over we started over, though for some reason the bastard always wanted me to sleep at his place, and not really wanting to go home that late anyway I decided I could just as well stay... you know... just because it was dark and I didn't want to go home so late and... what? Where I slept? With Spa- oh no, no no no! You are not-! ... Okay, okay! I admit! I slept with Spain!

… … … No wait! I didn't mean slept with him like _that_! I was sleeping, not... not... not doing stuff like that with the bastard! ARGH! I did _not_ have sex with him, will you fucking get it already! GAAH! Stop twisting my words, woman!

After the Second World War rolled along and my stupid little brother wasn't on the best terms with the potato bastard for a while (hallelujah for that!), I could finally breathe calmly. On the other hand him not hanging out with potato head meant that he was running after me like the whiny brat that he is. Against my will and intentions or whatever I shall call it Spain's house became something of a sanctuary for me... for Feliciano rarely went there, saying something about not wanting to interrupt. (the hell!?) So I wouldn't have to hear his annoying voice all the time, and not have him clinging onto me every second of the day.

Because, yeah sure, Spain could be clingy and annoying... but never at the level of my brother. For most part we would just walk around the tomato fields, plucking the ripe ones and put them in our baskets or tending to the plants. Spain always sings when we do this... from old lullabies to the latest song on the radio and... Well, I don't really listen, because I don't speak his stupid language... but it's kind of... no matter!

We did this until about... twenty years ago? Our relationship changed only gradually, little by little over those years... and in 1989 he... well, he confessed to me.

He just wandered up to my house, rang the bell and when I opened he threw his arms to the sides and shouted "Lovi! My lovely, sweet little tomato!" just like he always does, and as usual I got ready to hit him for being stupid... but then "_I love you!_" just like that! Sure, he's said he loves me multiple times but... never like this. His eyes they... they were... anyway, I was so shocked that I didn't do a thing, so before I knew it he had cupped my face in his hands and kissed me...

It was an awful kiss, of course! That stupid bastard kiss like a golden retriever! … But it was kind of nice too, all warm and soft... and I was pretty okay with it until he stuck his tongue in... and then I couldn't take it anymore! He had molested me enough! So I pushed...

… Or at least that's what I had intended to do... but for some reason I...

And of course my stupid little brother had to go and ruin it … No wait! It was good, no ruining at all! He came just in time to save me from being molested by that stupid, perverted Spaniard! So I broke off and tried to push him away, wanting nothing more than to run back to my room and hide from the world in my shame... but he just held me around the waist and laughed that stupid laugh of his! As if it was the funniest thing in the world! … And then my brother had to join in as well (the stupid ass!) and then he started babbling about it being so great that we finally got together and yadda yadda yadda!

We didn't get together! We're not together now either! Spain just say we are, but it's a lie! A lie! Just because I live in his house half of the time, and the other half he lives in my house... and we share bed... and we ki- him! I mean him! _He_ kiss _me_! I play no part in it! And then we have- oh fuck no! Too much information here! You cannot make me say it, bitch! So sit back and sulk, 'cause I ain't telling ya a thing!

… Huh? What happened after that?

… Well, life went on as usual, I guess... He'd be at my place bugging me on a daily basis, invading my bed (don't get any weird ideas, you perv!) and eating all my food! Damn it! I hate that fucking bastard! He always... DAMN IT! Stop making me say stuff I don't want to say! ARGH! You're so annoying! Hell, I've had enough of this shit! I'm going hom- no! I am not going home to Spain! I am- stop putting words in my mouth already! I am not going to-

GOD DAMN IT WOMAN!


End file.
